


dangers of an aching heart

by arthursmorgan



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: And Almost eaten, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, I think?, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, albert gets startled again, but arthur saves him as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthursmorgan/pseuds/arthursmorgan
Summary: Arthur Morgan was, after all, Alberts saviour, more often than either of them could remember, and Albert would never change his view on the outlaw.





	dangers of an aching heart

If you asked Arthur Morgan, a notorious outlaw, a killing machine, a made murderer, how he saw himself, no kind words would be uttered. If you asked Albert Mason, a wildlife photgrapher and a magnet for bad luck, how he saw Arthur, nothing but words of admiration would be detailed. Arthur Morgan was, after all, Alberts saviour, more often than either of them could remember, and Albert would never change his view on the outlaw. 

Not even when Arthur startled him nearly to death for the dozenth time, it seemed. He had been out and about near Lemoyne, trying, and failing, to take a picture of some alligator snapping turtles. Now, Albert may have thought this to be a simple task, since his subject was slower than his fate inevitably catching up with him, but he turned out to be wrong. Again. 

Since those turtles resided in the swampier areas of the map, alligators were not to be missed. And as Albert was distracted by the beautiful sun beams permeating through the leaves of the woods and reflecting on the muddy swamp water as a turtle waddled by in front of them (a perfect picture, he thought), he heard a low hissing sound that abruptly ended in a gunshot or two. Alberts heart sped up as he flung around, his hand moving fastly to cover his racing heart, willing himself to calm down as he came face to face with an alligator three feet away from him. He sprung again, backwards and into his carefully set up camera, sending himself and his expensive equipmemt flying to the ground, covering everything in mud. 

He noticed quickly enough for his senses that the alligator was not moving. At all. Instead it was lying flat on its stomach, eyes closed and completely still. Two dirty boots stepped directly into Alberts view and his gaze followed them upwards, along the pantlegs, the broad chest, and finally settling on the stubbled face of the handsome outlaw that refused to leave him be, even in his dreams. 

Arthur Morgan chuckled lowly as he said, in a greeting „Ya really got yourself into a situation again, aye, Mister Mason?“ His eyes held an amused spark in them as he leaned down to help Albert stand up. His firm hands were wrapped around Alberts chest, pulling him upwards. Albert felt as though everything of Arthur connected with everything of himself and, for a short second, he was afraid of what would happen if they seperated again. 

The only thing that happened was Alberts heart clenching and twisting as Arthurs grip on him faltered and then completely left him. Coldness and foolishness were the only things he detected feeling, and he said „Impossible not to,“ in an attempt to jest through his aching heart. „You really are a saint, Mister Morgan.“

„Ah,“ Arthur waved his compliment off, and instead wandered over to the camera lying in the mud and picked it up carefully. Wordlessly, he took out a piece of fabric from his satchel and began cleaning the dirty camera, careful as ever. The sounds of water splashing and of birds squawking accompanied Alberts still heavy breathing. 

When Arthurs hands came to a halt and he looked up at Albert, Alberts breath hitched, for only just a second. „What animal trying to eat you was you photographing this time?“ the outlaw inquired interestedly. „Ah, it was the alligator snapping turtle. You can still see it wandering over there,“ he pointed a finger off towards the direction the turtle was in, and upon seeing it, Arthur let out a breathy chuckle. 

„Ain‘t even a dangerous subject and yet you almost got yourself eaten again. Shoulda stayed with the eagles.“ Arthur said as he resumed cleaning the small lens of the camera. „Well, and fall off a cliff again? No, thank you, sir,“ Albert chuckled breathlessly, inspecting Arthurs movement carefully. Even though he barely knew the outlaw, he trusted him with handling his expensive equipment, and he trusted him with handling his heart. And even though Albert would never tell Arthur, he figured his love would be in a secure place within Arthurs calloused hands. 

„There you go,“ Arthur finally said, handing the now relatively clean camera back to its owner, who gladly accepted it. „Thank you. I really don‘t know what I would do without you.“ For Albert, that was close enough to a confession. And it was enough for him, it really was. 

„Probably get eaten,“ Arthur quipped back, smiling at Albert in that way that made the photographer go weak in his knees and grasp for air. „You are probably right, Mister Morgan.“ 

„Please, Arthur,“ Arthur said, his voice deflated, yet raw. „Well, Arthur, I owe you my life. How about you join me for dinner? It‘s the least I could do.“ Albert tried everything, everything to keep Arthur from leaving again.

„I ain’t saying no to that offer,“ Arthur simply said as he whistled for his mare to join them. Meanwhile, Albert was putting away his camera back into its case, safe and secure. And then he realized something. 

„I, uh, I didn‘t bring my horse, it seems,“ he nervously uttered, his hand swiping across his neck, his gaze averted to the ground. „It‘s alright, you can ride with me,“ came Arthurs answer, along with an outstretched hand. 

Albert hesitated, he was unsure if Arthur meant for him to give him his equipment or to take his hand. He went for the safer option of handing him his equipment. Except for a confused stare, it seemed to have been the right choice, as Arthur took the bag and tied it onto his horses back, stretching his hand back out again after he secured the camera.

This time, Albert took his hand, and was guided onto the white Arabian horse, sitting in front of Arthur. Arthurs arms were caging him in as he took the reins and carefully kicked the horses side to get it to gallop. „I live in Saint Denis,“ he quickly said as the mare picked up its pace. Arthur hummed in understanding and began leading them towards the big town. Albert tried distracting himself from the warm body pressed against his back by listening to their surroundings.

Hooves clicking on the wooden bridge they were crossing, shouts of people coming from Saint Denis and far away gunshots, which sent Alberts heart racing for a few seconds.

Riding into Saint Denis, people started greeting Arthur, waving towards him and yelling over. Albert turned around as best he could and shot his companion a confused stare, but Arthur just met his eyes, that familiar glint coming back, and said nothing at all. „Where to?“ Arthur asked when they arrived on the main street. Albert gave him directionf until they arrived at a fairly tall building, at which Arthur gaped in amazement. „You live here?“ he asked, baffled.

„Uh, yes! I own an apartment on the top floor. Good view for photographing.“ Albert explained as he made his way towards the entrance. Arthur quickly caught up with him and opened the door for him before Albert could even reach out for the handle. He met Arthurs gaze with his own appreciative one and entered the building, leading Arthur towards the upper floors and into his home. 

Arthur took a long look around, at the many photographs hanging on the left wall of the apartment, at the empty fireplace and the couch in front of it. At the kitchen into which Albert just disappeared. At Albert as he began preparing them dinner. 

The outlaw always looked forward to meeting Albert. He told himself that he simply enjoyed the other mans company, but he knew why that was. He knew the feeling all too well. From Mary. From Eliza. 

Sometimes, when he let himself wander, he looked for the strange photographer. In the weirdest of places surrounded by the most dangerous of animals. But only sometimes he would find him, but the rare find made it an even better one. When he thought about Albert going on his adventured and getting into dangere, his heart fell, twisted in on itself, bled and burned. The thought of looking for the photgrapher, asking around and travelling, only to be told that he had passed due to his ‚dangerous lifestyle‘, made Arthur lose sleep. And here he thought his life was a dangerous one because of the murder and the law, but it was a dangerous one because of the fear he inflicted onto himself by falling for people that seemed to attract trouble.

And even though his presence once in a while would be a salvation to Albert, his constant being around would result in a curse. A curse followed by seperation, fear, death. One followed by people splittling them up or by people breaking into his loved ones home only to murder them for ten dollars.

No one would profit from that. And so Arthur settled for keeping his feelings shut, locked away in a small part of his mind. A part he did not dare to enter, one he was afraid of setting lose. Because once those feelings became free, they would not be tamed. His love was a fierce one and he would go to the ends of the earth for the one it was directed at. If they would have him, that is. Arthur was nothing if not a man of honor, and he did not force his love upon someone that did not ask for it or want it. 

Nobody wanted it, and that is why he kept it locked up and forgotten. Forgotten until a clumsy wildlife photographer literally stumbled into his life. 

Albert peeked his head out through the doorway and said „Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, why don‘t you set the table?“ He handed Arthur cutlery and Arthur put it onto the table, not quite sure how to arrange them properly.

Albert soon marched out of the kitchen, one plate in each hand which he set carefully onto the table. When he looked at the cutlery for one second too long, Arthur said „I‘m sorry, I-" but Albert interrupted him quickly „It‘s alright, Arthur.“

They both settled down and ate in silence. It was venison, Arthur noticed after one bite. It was perfectly prepared, and Arthur voiced his thoughts, making Albert splutter and stutter as he thanked him.

The rest of the dinner was spent in silence, only disrupted by cutlery meeting with each other or the plate.

Arthur tried eating slowly, slower than usual, at least, to stretch out his time with Albert. He observed that Albert was a fairly slow eater while doing so.

But, as everything, the dinner inevitably came to an end. And Albert got up to bring their plates back into the kitchen, a loud clanking could be heard, indicating that he had put them into the sink. 

When he emerged back from the kitchen, Arthur was standing in the middle of the room, shuffling his feet nervously. „I better get going,“ he said, his voice was flat and sounded drained. „You don‘t have to,“ Albert countered in a desperate effort to keep Arthur close.

He stepped forward and reached his hands out, not touching Arthur, but close to. „You don‘t,“ he began again, his voice sounded pleading, desperate, and at this point, Albert didn‘t care anymore, if only he got Arthur to stay.

Something in Arthurs eyes cleared, and his stance changed, more upright, prouder, surer. „I don‘t,“ he repeated, barely above a whisper, as he quickly dove in to capture Alberts lips with his own.

Albert squeaked a bit in surprise, but soon wrapped his arms around Arthurs neck, pulling him in closer and closer and closer. Arthurs own arms were securely tightened around Alberts waist, caressing the photographers lower back slowly. Alberts beard tickled Arthurs neck, but in a weirdly pleasant way, and he deepened their kiss. Fierce, just as Arthurs love. Profound, just as Alberts heart.

When they parted, they didn‘t part. Albert snuggled his head into Arthurs neck, next to his own arm, and Arthur pulled his waist closer. They stood there for a while, when Arthur started swaying them from one side to the other, soft movements as though they were dancing. He pressed a kiss against Alberts hair and settled his cheek against it, starting to hum and old song that his mother used to sing to him.

A slow whisper and hot breath against his neck made him pause in his humming. „Don‘t leave,“ to which he responded with „I ain‘t.“

And he didn‘t. Not until the next morning, when he kissed the tip of Alberts nose when he said goodbye. Arthur continued going to Alberts apartment at least once every week. Everybody in camp suspected he had a girl somewhere in Saint Denis, and when they asked, this glint would appear back in his eyes, and he would say „Maybe I do.“

Arthurs love was once again set free, his heart bursting and searing. Only this time, he knew that there would be no need for a lock again.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been wanting to write something for those two idiots for a long time now but i had no idea what to write so i just did whatever.  
> i hope you liked it!  
> come talk to me on tumblr @oakenshied


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